Letters to Lenore
by ArwenJaneLilyLyra
Summary: Ronald Weasley thought he was so much more than what he truly was. It's only over time that he realises who he truly is, and that the girl of his dreams is not the girl of his destiny. Not epilogue compliant. A songic requested by the author silverbirch.


**Thanks very much to _silverbirch_ who introduced me to this song, this is obviously dedicated to you, your song taste and your interest in the Ron/Hermione pairing. As for everyone who is yet to hear of the duo _Jonny Kearney and Lucy Farrell_, shame on you! Once you've read this (and reviewed?) you should definitely look them up, they have a myspace account which comntains all their songs. They're superb, but unfortunately there are many artists who are twice as famous, but have half their talent.**

**Also, in the promotion of freerice, to pay back something for all the free entertainment provided by fanfictioners across the world, go onto freericedotcom and play the game to help stop world hunger. It's easy and you're doing some good as well as giving some 'payment' for the entertainment given to you. Look up the fanfiction author _freerice_ for more details :)**

**I hope you enjoy this story, I'll stop my blathering now :)  


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_**I sold my soul to the pawnbroke man, not a thought to where it went. Now my drink has all been drunk up, and my money's all been spent.**_

"Ronald! Are you even listening to me?"

Ron glanced up at the mass of hazel-brown curls and stared into a pair of eyes as dark as chocolate that were narrowed in anger, tears glistening around the rims of her eyelids. Her lips were quivering, turned down into a slant that revealed her disappointment, but at what Ron couldn't quite be sure of at that moment.

"Yeah! Course I am 'Mione, I always listen to you. You're my world babe, I love you!" Ron grinned manically and made a sloppy kissing sound at his girlfriend, who leaned back in her seat looking repulsed. "What?" Ron asked in a hurt tone.

"What happened to us, Ron?" Hermione asked, anger dissipating and rapidly becoming replaced by hurt and betrayal. "Since when were we that couple that is clinging on to the last threads of a relationship?"

Ron glanced around at the half empty muggle bar that they had been sitting in for hours now, eating a meal accompanied by half attempted conversation, with her sipping uncomfortably at her martini and him throwing back as many drinks as possible, getting louder by the minute. He stared at the girl before him blankly, considering what to say, and then settled for a nonchalant shrug.

He didn't know quite what happened, but one minute Hermione Granger was sat in front of him, and then the next he was watching her stalk out of the door, leaving her favourite scarf behind in her hurry to escape.

_**And all my friends have scattered, like ashes to the sea. And the only girl I ever did love, she had to leave me be. Oh, the only girl I ever did love, she turned her back on me.**_

"Hello?"

"HARRY?"

"RON! I thought Hermione told you to stop calling?"

Ron groaned; he had hoped that his ex-girlfriend might have forgotten about their last meeting, hopefully without mentioning it to Harry. The last thing he needed was to argue with his oldest friend.

"HARRY, I NEED TO-"

"Ron, I thought we'd been through this? You. Do. Not. Need. To. SHOUT!" the fact that Harry contradicted his own words by screaming the last word was enough evidence that he wasn't wholly pleased with Ron, and Ron noticed this with a violent wince.

"Sorry," he mumbled sheepishly.

"For what?" was Harry's cold response. Ron hesitated, his fingers wrapped tightly around the muggle payphone. He could hear Harry's low, even breaths through the line, and in the background, what sounded like a large group of people talking animatedly. Ron wondered vaguely what the occasion was.

"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

"Sorry for forgetting about the phone, or sorry for what happened with Hermione?" Harry demanded, his voice dark and foreboding; Ron could only imagine the expression on his friend's face in that moment.

"What's Mi told you?"

"She always hated that name," Harry snapped without answering the question.

"Can I at least talk to her?" Ron pleaded desperately, leaning against the side of the phone box and lightly banging his head against the window, watching the rain spill down to the ground and hoping internally it would cease before his conversation was finished.

"She said she didn't want to talk to you, and right now, I guarantee you do not want to interrupt her."

At that moment there was an outbreak of laughter from the voices and Harry didn't bother trying to conceal them.

"Just one-"

"Who is it Harry?"

Ron froze at the soft voice that she _always_ wore when she was smiling. He felt like singing out to her, screaming her name until she accepted his apologies and everything went back to normal. He hadn't heard Harry say his name, all he heard was the groan of irritation from the young woman before the phone clicked and the buzzing tone rang loudly in his ear, rejection hissing in its monotonous drone.

_**Hey Lenore, Lenore, what I write you for, I find it hard to tell, Just to see how you are doing, Hey I hope you're doing well. And I hear you're getting married, with a baby on the way. And how come you've not invited me unto your wedding day? We were laughing 'bout the future only seems like yesterday.**_

Ron coughed into his hands, rubbing them together and stamping his feet as he deliberated whether to cave into his trembling hands and stop at the muggle café, or carry on walking for a few more minutes and be able to apparate back to his home.

Eyes following up and down the street, he caught a glimpse of hazel curls and froze, gaze flicking upwards to the name of shop, which was entitled _Bella's Brides_. The woman just visible through the mannequins in the window was twirling around, arms in the air, a cream dress wrapped around her body and trailing on the floor. She was smiling, locks of hair dancing around her face as she laughed with the assistant, who was clapping her perfectly manicured hands in approval.

Stepping into view was a third woman, this one of a similar age to the bride-to-be. Her stomach was protruding to the point that Ron was surprised she could stand. Her flaming red hair, the exact shade as Ron, left him in no doubt who it was. His little sister was close to unrecognisable.

He watched, mesmerised, as Hermione stopped spinning, one hand on her stomach and Ron frowned as he saw that she was also larger than usual. Nowhere near as close to her due date as Ginny, but she was definitely a mother-to-be. Her shining eyes as she patted her lower belly were proof enough.

Ron continued to stare at the two women, feeling a sudden urge to run straight into the bridal shop and demand an explanation.

But he didn't.

With a crease between his eyebrows that was fast becoming a regular feature on his young face, he let his hands fall to his sides as he walked away, not wanting to look back, but tilting his head to the side anyway to catch one last glimpse of the girl of his dreams.

_**And me yes I'm alright, same old company, same old town. And I applied for a promotion, don't know why they turned me down. **_

"Hey Weasley, you got those files sorted out yet?"

"Errm," Ron replied, rooting through the stack of papers on his desk.

"Weasley! That was your reply last Friday! Get moving!" Mr Chelson shouted, barely looking at Ron as he barged through into his office and slammed the door behind him. Ron grumbled to himself as he finally extracted three sheets of parchment covered in half-eligible scribbles that he had been planning to neaten up for over a week now.

He stopped his seditious muttering as the heavy oak door opened again to reveal Chelson's face, newly tanned from an extended holiday in Greece, staring at him with slightly less hostility.

"Oh, and get me a coffee will you? Fetch yourself one while you're at it. You look like you need one." He said in a brutally honest voice, cocking one eyebrow and half smiling innocently.

Ron simply nodded and stomped out of the room.

"And less of the attitude!" Chelson called after him as if he was talking to an insolent teenager.

_**And I was going to leave last April, but then April turned to May. And I don't know when I'm leaving, but I swear I'm going away. I don't know when I'm leaving, but I swear I'm going away.**_

"I'm so bloody sick of this," Ron sighed heavily, picking half-heartedly at the pasta on his plate.

"So quit." He looked up at the woman sat opposite him. Her hair plaited elegantly, makeup lightly applied to her eyes to give her a subtle hint of seductive beauty. Her smile was genuine and friendly, one of the few Ron seemed to receive at work nowadays.

"Yeah, yeah I know. I would if there was somewhere to _go_." He stabbed at a piece of tomato angrily, venting his frustration on his food and forcing it down his throat, despite the fact it had gone cold. "How's Lavender?" he asked.

"She's fine," Parvati replied, her mouth grimacing slightly. "Still struggling to find work, even after everything that Hermione's done for-" she paused, a guilty expression on her face. She quickly returned to her food, staring intently at it to avoid Ron's wide, sad eyes. "Sorry," she whispered.

"S'fine," Ron said quietly.

"Have you tried-"

"Yes," he cut her off before she could even ask. There was nothing she could suggest that he hadn't already tried several times.

_**And I'm still trying for the acting, though the right part's not come through. Director said to try again, maybe a year or maybe two.**_

Knocking on the door, Ron shifted nervously as he heard the husky voice of the Head Auror telling him to enter. He smoothed his robes before opening the door and entering. He closed the door behind him with a gentle _snap_ and looked up from the ground into the emerald eyes of the person who had once been his best friend.

"Sit down, Ron," Harry said, sounding almost as nervous as Ron felt. "Look," Harry began, sounding a lot like he was forcing himself to talk before he lost his nerve. Troubled eyes of bottle green looked around the room at everything but the redhead before him.

"Yeah?" Ron prompted, impatience rising quickly in his anticipation.

"It's not going to happen." Harry said bluntly. There was a pregnant silence that threatened to choke both the men.

"Oh," was all Ron could say. Disappointment flooded through him; he had been so _sure_ that this time, this time things would pull together.

"It's not just up to me, you know I'd help get you in if I really could," Ron nodded, but didn't fail to notice how Harry couldn't quite look him in the eye as he said this, "But it's up to the board to decide as a group, and there are seven of us. I can't force people to choose one way or another."

"Yeah, I know," Ron said, trying not to sound sulky. He'd been waiting for this moment for three weeks, and now he simply wanted to get out as fast as he could.

"How's Gin?" he asked, trying to ease the awkwardness, but Harry only looked more uncomfortable at the small talk.

"Good," he said, "She's good. Glad to be getting back on her broom again now that Lil's at school too and she's free to get back to the team. She's lucky they kept the spot open for her really."

Ron nodded. He couldn't think of anything else to say but the one question that was burning his tongue. He nearly voiced it, but at the last moment he twisted it. "How's the kids?"

"Good," Harry repeated. "Great, really. Lily's pleased to finally be getting to Hogwarts; Albus has made it onto the Quidditch team, he's their new Seeker; and James is still living up to both his namesakes, though maybe a little more controlled."

Ron forced a sickly sweet smile to curve his lips upwards, trying to look pleased for the success of his niece and nephews. He didn't _want_ to feel this bitter, but he couldn't help it.

"And 'Mione?" he blurted out, unable to leave without asking.

"Honestly?" Harry asked, looking a little sceptical and gripping onto the armrests of his chair tightly. Ron nodded earnestly. "She's never been happier," Harry said, trying to keep his voice warm and caring, but Ron didn't hear the tone in which he spoke, all he heard were the words.

_What about me?_ He thought desperately.

_**And I see them in the magazines, like I see them on TV. And the man upon the silver screen, is no better than me. Oh the man that rules the whole wide world, Well he's just the same as me.**_

"Weasley! Coffee please!" Chelson shouted, not even opening his office door, opting simply to shout louder than usual to be heard.

"Yes sir," Ron snapped, throwing his pen down and throwing his boss a rude gesture towards the door as he exited. He stormed down the corridor towards the kitchenette area provided for high ranking Aurors to make a hasty cup of lukewarm coffee. As he entered the room, he saw that someone had left their Daily Prophet on the table, and letting the water warm slowly, he perused through the pages absently before closing it to stare at the front page, letting the picture slap him in the face with its ostentatious mocking of him.

The page was half filled with a photo of the great Harry Potter, Order of Merlin First Class in hand, looking very uncomfortable in front of the camera – it seemed no amount of photo shoots were going to help his allergy to his own popularity – and waving self consciously at the crowds around him.

The title was some large comment about a hero, risen through the ranks of Aurors faster than all his predecessors, was a poplar candidate that many were hoping would try for Minister for Magic once war hero Kingsley Shacklebolt retired. Ron glowered as he stared at the adoring crowds clamouring for Harry's attention.

"Hi, Ron,"

Ron jumped and turned swiftly to see Harry stood next to him, empty mug of cold tea in his hand. Ron half grunted a reply and sped up his coffee making to leave the room. Harry seemed to have noticed what Ron had been giving such filthy looks, because there was a tint of colour in his cheeks as he glanced at the newspaper.

"You alright?" Harry asked, trying to fill the awkward silence left between them.

"Yeah, you?" Ron asked as politely as possible. Was Harry maybe trying to knit their friendship back together? This had been the first time they'd spoken in…well, even Ron wasn't too sure anymore.

"I'm fine, things are just so hectic at the moment," he admitted.

"Hmm," was Ron's helpful reply. "Congratulations though," he said, hoping he didn't sound too reluctant.

"Thanks," Harry said, half smiling at Ron, who gave a similar, hesitant grin back.

"Look," Ron said quickly, "How about sometime-"

"Mr Potter! The Minster's here to see you, it's about the interviews the Daily Prophet are demanding. They say it's only fair if you give The Quibbler another one, they should have at least one."

"Coming!" Harry called back down the corridor where the woman's voice had come from. "Sorry Ron, talk later, yeah?" without waiting for a reply, he patted Ron's arm without seeming to pay attention to what he was doing and jogged out of the corridor. Ron watched his go morosely, eyebrows furrowed and mouth set.

_**Hey Lenore, Lenore, Lenore, Lenore, Lenore, Lenore, Lenore, Hey Lenore, Lenore, Lenore, Lenore, Lenore, Lenore, Lenore; I swear I'll not be bothering you no more.**_

"Hermione! _Hermione_! HERMIONE!"

"WHAT RONALD?"

Ron stopped. Muggle were staring at the two of them, Hermione rushing and Ron chasing, now stood facing one another. Hermione hadn't changed much over the years – just a few laughter lines gracing her face, but the twinkle in her eyes was still there, and so was calm, friendly appearance hidden her expression. At least, it had been until she had whipped around to face him, glaring angrily.

"I just want to talk to you," he said quietly. She sighed dramatically, seemingly unaware of the number of people still throwing them both covert glances.

"Talk then," she said stubbornly, one hand on her hip.

"Here?" Ron asked, feeling very self conscious in front of the muggles bustling past on the street.

"Yes," she said coldly. "I'm tired of you pestering me, Ron. Maybe if you'd had the decency to wait for a while before you started calling me every day, I'd have forgiven you and things would be different, we might actually still be friends. But as it is you drove me to my limits. So just say it and leave me be." Her tone was icy and clinical, but Ron could see the pain in her warm dark eyes as they watered and in her soft pink lips as they quivered.

"I just…" Ron felt the words rise to his lips, the begging and pleading and just plain whining that had been rattling inside his head for years. Now was his chance to impress her, to show her how much she had changed. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for to win her over once and for all. But his eyes found their way to the bag of shopping she was holding, and the small band of gold that encircled her finger. In contrast to the lines following down along Hermione's grimace, the gold was bright and sparkly, it was nothing but happiness.

Ron considered what the likelihood was of his words making any positive difference to her expression, of bringing the bright sparkle to her eye as he had once had such a talent for doing.

"I just…"

"Yes?" Hermione said, shifting her weight to even out the balance of her bags.

"Just wanted to say I'm sorry for bothering you so much. And…and I'm glad to see you happy…" Ron forced out. He half wanted to tell her that she deserved it, but he didn't think he'd manage it without shouting angrily. So he watched as surprise caused his dear 'Mione's eyebrows to rise and her lips part into a near comical '_o_'.

"Thank you," she said quietly, looking suddenly highly uncomfortable. "I have to go," she said abruptly.

"Okay then," Ron said sullenly, keeping his expression as light as possible. He turned to leave, unable to keep his shoulders from slumping as he walked away.

"I'll call you!" Hermione shouted after, apologies screaming out in the undertone of her voice.

Ron just smiled as he continued his stroll down the busy London street.

_**And if I didn't leave some time ago, I'm going to leave today. And I don't where I'm going, but I swear I'm going away. I don't where I'm going to, but I swear I'm going away.**_

"Ron! What are doing here?"

"Wanted to say goodbye," Ron explained, and Lavender smiled sadly.

"You're finally leaving after all these years planning?" she asked, and Ron nodded, lips pressed together. "I'll miss your company," she said, sipping her coffee and folding her newspaper shut.

"Me too," he said.

The woman stood, golden brown hair styled to cover the worst of the scars on her face, her full lips half smiling as she walked over to the redheaded man and wrapped her thin arms around him. Ron breathed in the homely scent of Lavender Thomas nee Brown, and for a split second didn't want to let go for the world. But the moment passed, and she leaned back to take in a good last look at his stubbled face, one hand on his cheek.

"Good luck," she told him sincerely.

"Same to you," he said gently, kissing the top of her head fondly and she laughed softly.

"Oh I don't think I need that anymore," she said in the same girly voice she had spoken with back in 'the old days' at Hogwarts, when she would gossip with Parvati about anything and everything, and fingered the wedding ring that had been wrapped around her fourth left finger for a total of three months.

"Goodbye Lavender," Ron said gruffly, feeling the bubble of fear and excitement trembling in the back of his throat.

"Goodbye Ronald," she replied, and as Ron walked away, he imagined another brunette waving goodbye as he walked out of the door, nothing in his pockets but his wand and a photo of three teenagers for company.


End file.
